


Downfall: Interlude

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fanfic of Fanfic, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 23:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9686171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A "missing" scene from Tenukii'sDownfall: Leia's point of view on her son's ever-changing relationship with her knight commander.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tenukii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenukii/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Downfall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207865) by [Tenukii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenukii/pseuds/Tenukii). 



> This fits into Chapter 6, between Ben casting the spell on Poe in the woods and Poe awakening in the castle. I'm generally more of a Stormpilot fan, but this AU grabbed me hard enough that I was inspired to add a little more Poe h/c. Posted with Tenukii's approval and meant as the sincerest form of flattery.

Leia didn’t look up from her reading at the sound of hooves clattering into the entrance path to the castle. She did, however, rise from her seat when she recognized her son’s voice shouting. And when it became clear that he was alarmed rather than irate, she rushed out of the drawing room, adept at taking the front steps in her skirts.  
  
A pair of footmen had beaten her there, taking the reins of Ben’s horse as he clutched a body to his chest, slumped and senseless. Leia recognized the dark curls of her knight commander, and her breath caught. Just behind, Poe’s horse paced restlessly where he was tethered to Ben’s.  
  
“Help _him,_ damn you, not the bloody horse!” Ben snarled at the footmen, who hurried to take Poe from his arms. The awkward dismount jostled the knight, who gave no sign of consciousness.  
  
“Ben, what on earth happened?”  
  
Climbing down, Ben opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a cry from Rey, flying out of the stable with eyes blazing. “What kind of monstrous oaf _are_ you?” she demanded. “How could you _hurt_ him?”  
  
“I didn’t!” Ben was often out of sorts, it was true, but usually he attempted to mask his discomfort with a cloak of anger. Now, he wore only desperate fear. “He fell from his horse—hit his head. He needs the physician.”  
  
As a child, Leia had once seen a jouster struck in the head. He’d fallen as if dead in an instant, and two days later he had indeed succumbed, having never opened his eyes again. “Go quickly,” she ordered the handmaiden who had followed her. “Tell the royal physician to meet us in the Cerulean Bedroom.”  
  
The footmen attempted to lift Poe without a great deal of coordination. One limp arm dangled, and his head began to loll back before Ben lunged forward to catch it. “His wound, you fools!” he thundered. “Give him to me!”  
  
Not daring to disobey, the footmen shrank back, and Ben drew Poe into his arms once more, lifting him with surprising care. Leia often forgot how small of stature her best knight truly was; his courage and the sheer force of his charm made him seem larger. Here, motionless in the grip of her towering son, he looked slight and fragile, and she was afraid for him.  
  
Ben ascended the steps with his burden, betraying little strain. Leia lengthened her stride to lead the way toward the only vacant guest room on the main floor. Her niece’s footfalls matched her pace from close behind.  
  
A servant hurriedly opened the chamber door for them, another one quick to turn down the sheets. Ben bent low to place Poe gently on the wide bed. The prince’s gaze was a little wild, and he pushed a hand through his hair, tugged loose by the frantic ride. “Where is the damned physician? We need a younger one, someone who can move with some alacrity.”  
  
“I will not have you disparage Healer Ematt just because you worry for Poe,” Leia told him sharply, studying the blood that had matted Poe’s hair and stained the back of his shirt. “Towels, please, Kaydel.”  
  
The servant brought them promptly, with a bowl of water. Ben seized the cloths from her hand and wet one himself, sliding into the chair nearest the bed to stroke the back of his friend’s neck with a gentleness his mother had never seen him display. His hand lingered for a moment on a glint of silver, nearly hidden under Poe’s shirt. What—  
  
“Tell me what’s happened.” Ematt bustled into the room, trailed by two young aides and moving to the bedside without so much as a glance at any of the royalty hovering nearby. “He was thrown, was he?”  
  
“After a fashion,” Ben mumbled, his earlier fire guttering. “He was riding behind me, and a branch caught him unawares—”  
  
“Oh? And whose fault could that possibly have been?” Rey wanted to know, glaring murderously at her cousin even as he rose to his feet.  
  
“I. Would. Not. Hurt. Him.”  
  
“Your Majesty, by your leave?” Ematt didn’t pause in his examination, but Leia knew what he was asking.  
  
“We’ll leave you to your patient. Please come inform us when you know more.” She took Rey and Ben each by the arm and ushered them into the sitting room just outside.  
  
“It was an accident, Mother,” Ben insisted, and she knew it was true. He—cared for Poe, in some strange way she had yet to properly name, and his actions just now made it clear that he could never have acted deliberately to injure him.  
  
“A foolish accident,” she replied sternly. “A grievous accident that must _never_ happen again. Your temper may yet be your undoing, Ben, but I will not allow it to be the undoing of this kingdom.”  
  
“It won’t.” Ben lifted his chin, but his resolve soon faltered. “I only pray that it won’t be Poe’s.”  
  
A few minutes passed in tense silence. One of Ematt’s assistants opened the door at last, and Leia held herself in place even as Ben and Rey surged toward it.  
  
“I expect Sir Dameron to recover,” Ematt informed them brusquely. “There appears to be no dangerous swelling inside his skull, and it is not cracked. All else is bruises—bad ones, and many of them, but nothing broken. He’ll need to rest here for some time yet to regain his strength and steadiness.”  
  
“When will he wake?” Ben asked.  
  
“Soon, or a few hours. It’s difficult to say. Was he conscious at all after the fall?”  
  
“Only for a few moments on the ride.” Ben hesitated, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure what to believe. “The pain was clearly great, but he knew me.”  
  
“Best that he stay as he is for a while longer, then. Have someone fetch his dressing gown. The girls will clean him up and make him comfortable.”  
  
“I’ll do it,” Ben said before Leia could summon a servant. Flushing pink, he amended, “I’ll go to his rooms, I mean. He’s in the east wing—or perhaps the south?”  
  
Leia wasn’t sure herself. “South is closer to the stables,” Rey pointed out, ever practical.  
  
The sound Ben made under his breath was somewhere between a huff and a growl. “Surely a chambermaid will be able to tell me.” He stalked out of the room, his bootheels clacking against the stone floor.  
  
“I do believe him when he says it was an accident,” Leia said quietly to her niece. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”  
  
Rey pressed her lips together and exhaled forcefully. “I think he…misinterpreted Sir Dameron’s intentions toward me. Or perhaps mine toward him. In any case, he galloped off in a snit, and I suggested that P- Sir Dameron go after him. It’s possible that _neither_ of them was entirely of the right mind to be focused on the path.”  
  
That explanation was still incomplete, and both women knew it.  
  
So it was finally coming to a head, all the uncertainty and crosswise glances. Leia wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or more anxious. “You should get ready for dinner,” she told Rey, who looked ready to object. Holding up a hand to forestall it, she continued. “Poe will be cared for. I’m content for you to ride with the men, but it won’t do for you to come to dinner in breeches.”  
  
“Yes, dear aunt.” Reluctantly, Rey gave a curtsy and turned toward the hallway with only a brief glance back toward the bedroom.  
  
Leia took a seat on the sofa, thinking on the odd _pas de deux_ that had so long ensnared the crown prince and the commander of the royal knights. Everyone adored Poe; everyone avoided Ben. Yet the two of them seemed to orbit each other even as they sparred. If she was honest with herself, she’d noticed days ago that the sunshine of Poe’s smile had seemed dimmer of late. What storm was brewing? Where would it lead them?  
  
It was another few minutes before Ben returned, a worn tunic crushed in one hand. He went to the bedroom door, only to be relieved of the tunic by one of the assistants with murmured thanks, the door open only a crack for a few seconds. His fists tightened at his sides, but he dropped onto the sofa beside his mother.  
  
Leia regarded his proud features, seemingly even more shaken now than when he’d left. “The physician is rarely wrong,” she said. “If he believes Poe will be all right, then so do I.”  
  
“It’s not that. Or—it is, but not only that.” Ben propped his elbows on his knees, looking only at the floor. “A scullery maid showed me to his room. She didn’t really want to, but she did. One room, smaller than this, with only a tiny window. His bed is barely large enough for even him. He owns a few books and hardly any clothes.” He turned to face her. “I understand that he’s a subject, and we can’t show too much favor to anyone, even the knight commander. But…he’s served us all his life, Mother. We treat him almost as family during the day, and then at night he retires to…” He shook his head. “He deserves better.”  
  
Warring emotions suffused Leia’s mind: embarrassment, for never having given much thought to the treatment of this young man who had no one else and asked for nothing; and pride, because Ben’s impassioned speech had given her a glimpse of the king he could become.  
  
“We’ll address it,” she said. “A bit later. Once he’s well, and after the guests have gone. You may hold me to my word.”  
  
Ematt came out of the bedroom then, drawing up short in surprise. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, Your Highness. I hadn’t realized you were still here. There’s nothing more to be done just now.”  
  
“I wish to see him.” Ben stood, his tone brooking no argument.  
  
“Er—certainly.” Ematt snapped his fingers and motioned to his aides, who scampered to follow him out. “We will return in an hour’s time to check the bleeding.”  
  
Without forethought, Leia trailed behind Ben as he moved to the bedside. The girls had done a fine job of bandaging Poe’s head and washing away the blood and dust. The tunic Ben had fetched did look plain and faded against the splendid linens of the guest bed. Poe himself looked faded, the pallor of his skin hardly improved from when Ben had brought him in.  
  
Sinking gracelessly into the chair once more, Ben stared at the knight’s unmoving form, his dark eyes a maelstrom.  
  
“I should tell you,” he said finally, “that in order to carry him back through the forest, I had to…use a spell.”  
  
Leia’s blood cooled, and she once again reined in her reaction. “I did wonder how you managed to lift him onto your horse.”  
  
“ _Two_ spells, then.” He drew further into himself. “He was suffering. Neither of us could bear the torment.”  
  
“I understand. No one saw you?”  
  
“No one but him, and he may not even remember.”  
  
“If he does --”  
  
“I _know_ , Mother. He will keep our confidence.”  
  
And she knew he would. She trusted Poe Dameron; not more than her husband or son, exactly, but in a sense she could better rely on his fealty than on nearly anything else in her kingdom. “All right, then,” she said quietly. “Will you come to dinner?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Ben—”  
  
“ _No._ ” He leaned forward, as if primed to protect the man in the bed. “Until he wakes, you may find me here.”  
  
Leia raised an eyebrow. “So this is to be your penance? To fast and brood?”  
  
Ben’s gaze never left Poe’s face, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Look what I did to him, Mother. Not by choice, but by my actions. Food does not appeal just yet.”  
  
“Ever the dramatic.” Leia curled her hand around his shoulder. “He will forgive you.”  
  
“Perhaps. Should he, though?”  
  
“Oh, Ben.” She leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. “We walk a lonely road. It is our birthright, both by the throne and by our powers. But nowhere is it written that any of us must walk it fully alone. He’s a good man.”  
  
_He would be worthy of you,_ she nearly added, but stopped herself. Ben clearly did not want to face that—not to her, and possibly not even to himself just yet. She took her leave, stepping through the doorway of the bedroom and crossing the antechamber toward the hallway, and toward the duties and expectations of her crown.  
  
In the outer doorway she paused and turned to look once more at her son. With heartbreaking tenderness, Ben’s long fingers stroked the side of Poe’s pale face and came to rest on the delicate silver chain she’d spotted before. It was too fine a possession for a commoner, even a knight; it could only have been a gift from someone of a noble house. Perhaps royalty.  
  
“I beg your forgiveness,” Ben murmured, his lips close to Poe’s unhearing ear. “Never again will I be an instrument of your pain. _Please,_ my Poe, come back to me.”  
  
Feeling like an interloper, Leia left them to their solitude. An ember of hope flared in her heart, stoked by the knowledge that the prince was indeed capable of great devotion after all.


End file.
